Indecency
by All In Red
Summary: AU! Maybe enrolling here was some big coincidence. She definitely never understood the arts, especially since she lacked in that stray. She never got the warning. But when she melted into his eyes, felt his hand in hers, and those warm lips diving into her skin, it was then that he pulled her trigger. Rated M for citrusy themes and language.
1. Leaving The Nest

AU! Maybe enrolling here was some big coincidence. She definitely never understood the arts, especially since she lacked in that stray. She never got the warning. But when she felt his hand in hers, his warm lips melting into her skin, it was then that he pulled her trigger.

Rated M for language and themes. Lemons to be indicated in later chapters. I do not own Soul Eater!

A/N: First, I just had this idea come up to me and slap me across the face, mostly since I was practically in a blank mode. But it hit me when I realized that it's actually something that I can mature into a fan fiction, also as a way to reorganize musical terms and what not. Here we go! And, to tell all my Just Another readers, it has been taken down since it needs revamping. I'm cleaning myself up. Finally, made it to +4k words...! It's been a while!

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**I. Leaving The Nest**

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"Don't forget to take your documents for the sign-in. Are you still sure about attending this school?" A tedious father would often say in place of a mother, especially when it came to his daughter's first day of school. He stood at the frame of his child's bedroom door, a cup of instant coffee in his hand, his hair a red nest and his eyes circled with dark spots as he watched his daughter tidy up her room before flying off to another nest. Yes, he was proud, but it pained him that his pride and joy was finally leaving. Especially since he would be lonely, having no one to converse with or even take care of him when he's practically head over heels after one too many shots. But whether it was her courtesy and obedience, he could call anxiety a shoo-in for last place.

Of course, he cursed the foul parchment that arrived in their rusty mailbox that night. In fact, being it was only a week's period, the fresh film of seeing her celebratory dance receiving the letter of acceptance was still aching, that she was leaving was stinging him right in the ass. The smile, moreover a grin, on her face when she looked over it again. Twice. Three times fold. This was definitely the time where his life story would take a dip down its climax, or rather, that he needed to cut down on all that alcohol.

He couldn't sleep easy the night before. Not even a wink to begin with. Tossing and turning in the covers, his mind snaking around him as his negative thoughts bore its fangs and bit into him. Was it really okay to agree to the offer? Or rather, was it a mistake? Sure, he was carefree, impossible when it came to convincing, (well, around his daughter and some others) but maybe he went too far on this thought. Was he really ready to let her go?

And here he is now, watching his daughter pack her bags, take down all her wall scrolls and ornaments in her room, only to seal them away in boring, brown moving boxes. There were some tape leftovers though, that he'll have to take care of. Sure, the tape may be off, but the sticky feel still had its tactics. Not to mention, the wall stains and cracks that were hidden too. Maybe the color could be spruced up... That's it.

Cleaning up the walls were _definitely_ on his to-do list.

A shoulder bag lay on her bed, stripped of its pale pink sheets and wool pillows, now only a mattress. She had slept on the couch last night, while he slept on his own warm and cozy bed. At first, he had insisted that she would take his room, yet she declined, saying that it would be a burden. And with that, their territories of slumber were marked. But yes, he did feel bad for her, being of the small inequality and how she had to stretch now and then. Breakfast in fact, was full of her yawns, stretches and eye rubbing, making his spine chill, the guilt starting to drown him.

Of course, the furniture would stay, being the desk and the small drawers. Plans for this room would probably be storage, unless she came home, which was uncertain. But he would always keep this place open for her. He would be her homage in her time of need.

As for money, just a couple hundred dollars for the first month was enough. He would just have to put more hours into the cashier job at the barista. As for food, it'll just be the instant shrimp ramen, the first thing on the shelf at the convenience store, water was always supplemental if he can keep up with bills. All the other miscellaneous could wait. For now, all eyes were on what was most beneficial to survival. Damn it all, in fact, he's off topic towards the point that—

"I'm all set, papa. I guess I'll be on my way then." She chimed as she zipped up the shoulder bag and turned towards her father with a smile. "I'll just be taking down these boxes first." Grabbing one of the boxes, she lifted it, only to drop it back down on the floor. Her father let out a small chuckle, only to walk over to her and lift it. "You shouldn't be trying to do those things, Maka. You'll hurt yourself."

"Oh, I don't need the help, thank you. I just... had to wipe something from my cheek..." She lied. Truthfully, her Plan B was to just slide the rest down, use the elevator, and meet Liz and Patty downstairs.

Her father, Spirit, had no tolerance for this however, and had made clear that he was to help her out. Only because he needed this last chance to impress her. Probably enough to make her stay...

"But I guess you could help..." She muttered, only to make him gasp and heave a big-looking box in his arms. "Whatever you want, angel." A bright shade of red stained her cheeks, making her nearly drop the small parcel she had just picked up. "Uh-huh. Let's just finish up here, shall we?"

And in thirty minutes, she was packed and ready, the moment seemingly blurred through a quick paced atmosphere. He was already outside, his worries lessening with the smile on her face as she embraced him one last time. "Promise me that you'll take better care of yourself, okay?" He only nodded, tears ready to fall from his eyes. But having another thought strike his mind, he pulled away from his daughter and stood up straighter.

"Um, before you leave me, for all that independence and prospects of the long run out there, I have some rules you'll need to follow..." He coughed as he spoke in an intricate and formal tone. Liz and Patty drove up, only to wave at Maka and Spirit. Patty slammed her door open, only to start loading the boxes in the trunk. Yet that didn't distract Spirit from his little speech. Ignoring the obnoxious noises, he continued.

"Sleep early, study hard, use your manners, you're always welcome to come home to my open arms and all in all..." Spirit cleared his throat as he announced his last rule. "Come back home when you're done with your final year. Are all of those terms agreeable and understandable?" Maka only paused, taken off guard by the last rule he had stated. "And you _want_ me to come back _because_...?"

"Why, you're going to earn back all the money I spent for sending you to that fancy academy. Sure, you got the scholarship, but I'm not letting the rest go just like that. I spent an extra five-thousand trying to set up everything else." Of course, she knew that he was right, but there were other options.

Yet this was not just _any_ other person.

"Well then," Maka stated, turning her back on him. Family came first. And besides, life was life, right? "I might as well. See you soon, papa." She said as she walked towards the car, her head high, yet her emotions tangled. Stop there? Just for someone who cheated on her mother and did some despicable, vulgar things she watched mercilessly throughout her life? Another few years with him wasn't going to cut it. And besides, he _must_ be lying, right?

But it was rather a parent's primal instinct of letting go that had just went too far. Spirit actually had enough to eat, drink, and be merry for the rest of his life. All he needed was to have his daughter beside him, and he'll finally live the life he wanted, the one that his wife had prevented him from having for a _long_ time.

With that in mind, she entered the car, strapping her seatbelt on as Patty had placed in the last of her belongings, only to hop in. Liz, being on the wheel, noticed the pig-tailed girl's expression, moped and depressed. Honking the horn, she pulled the handle into drive, only to drive off, Patty fastening her seatbelt as they made their way through the city. "Yahoo! Next stop, Shibusen!" The blondes screamed out, leading to some car horns and colorful swearing from other drivers. Maka however, kept her head low. Liz noticed this, only to question her.

"You've looked like that ever since we left your place. Homesick already?" She asked, only to earn a giggle from Maka. "No, it's nothing. Yay, Shibusen..." She said with sarcasm. Liz immediately pulled over by the small shopping outlets, only to whisper into Patty's ear. The younger blonde giggled, only to turn to Maka and look at her with the most ridiculous face she's ever seen.

"Bout time you turn that damn straight line upside and into a smile, y'know?" She said, grabbing Maka by her pig tails. She only nodded, only to grin as best she could, convincingly enough to not have her pig tails pulled off by Patty. Definitely not when their first day was just around the corner.

"Oh, yeah." She placed her best smile on, only to make Liz step on the gas and hit the highway, a day's time just to get to campus. Within forty-eight hours would be the day where it would all change. That she could be able to taste the world beyond Death City.

Pretty soon, they had stopped at a shaggy motel, cursing the fact that it was late at night, around the ten o'clock hour when the roads were crowded with travelers coming in from the interstate and towards the campus. The lobby had already dusted its impression on her; shabby walls, dangerously low lightbulbs, and roughed up furniture after a full-blown house party. She waited on the worn out couches, denying the coffee table full of kinky magazines. Just what kind of pit stop was this?

"I got our room keys!" Patty chimed as she rolled a small suitcase of clothes along with her. " Now, we just need to recharge our energy and prepare for tomorrow!" Liz smiled, only to elbow Maka as a way to encourage her. "You sure that you're okay?" Maka nodded, only to stand up and sling the small bag of clothes on her back. Together, the trio made their way to the stairs, heading to their rooms on the second floor. Patty instantly threw a key at Maka, nearly making her drop it off the balcony. "I thought all three of us were sharing a room..." Maka muttered as she eyed the small piece of brass.

Liz and Patty laughed, only to open their room and introduce their reasoning of throwing another key. Maka's eyes widened at such filth, for it was definitely the atmosphere of the main lobby that triggered that fishy feeling in her gut. But it was mainly the sight of one bed in the room, surrounded by scratched and odd-smelling wooden furniture.

Sighing, she had no choice but to take her keys and head outside, for after just reading the key's assigned door, she immediately suspected that they would go just for motel rooms right next to each other. And so, fate had been kind enough to do so. Walking over, she jabbed the key in, only to find that the door was still locked. She tried again, struggling to open the door, ready to head over to Liz and Patty's room and ask them for help. It was only ten minutes that she found that there was another key hole, mocking her. Annoyed and irritated, she shoved the key into the hole and forced it open, only to have the door fly open, awaiting a black room. Satisfied, she ventured in, checking out the bathroom which was right next to the doorway. It was disgusting all right, the toilet smelling like a crap shack, the sink filled with mold and mildew, the tub filled with cracks and what appeared to be blood. (She didn't even want to know!)

Enough was enough, and with that, she pinched her nose and left, only to come face to face with the bed... And some random stranger laying sprawled across it, his body melting into the mattress. He seemed to be reading a brochure under the illumination of a dim lamplight, not noticing her presence. Confused, she immediately caught his attention, eyeing him carefully and prepared with her interrogations.

"What are you doing in _my_ motel room?" Maka asked, eyeing the man on the bed. He had an odd hair color, for white was definitely a rare sight. His ruby-red eyes stirred up her soul just by staring into them, trapping her in a never-ending trance. Well built, handsome, and good-looking, an appearance that all of her romance novels depicted. All that was missing was the suspense, and the hot passionate sex that made her toes curl and her stomach churn with followed by the warm wet feeling pooling between her legs. This man was definitely the best mental and external description that she yearned to recognize. It was only when he spoke, that he sealed the deal and checked that last box on her list. "They gave you the keys to this room?" He asked, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Weird, considering that I checked in here first." And with that, he went back to reading an awfully familiar brochure, hidden by the creeping darkness of the room. Maka didn't tolerate that answer, only to walk over to him.

"I've traveled all day and I need to rest. Find another room so before things get nasty." She warned him, which seemed to have no effect whatsoever. He only yawned and retaliated without emotion.

"So have I. And the term I believe is, I got here first."

"So? Go find another room to sleep in then. My friends are next door, and they made some arrangements that we'd be together." She said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Then go sleep in the room on the other side of them." He grumbled.

"The balcony?" She questioned, shocked by his lack of attention and thought.

"Hey. That works too."

"Well, no. I have a big day ahead of me, so I'm not going to wear a sickly pale face on either. Maybe if we go down to the concierge, then maybe we can work some things out." Maka insisted, toying with the hemline of her plaid skirt.

"Nah, I'm good. You can do that though. I'll be happy to move, as long as you can get me another room to sleep in." He groaned as he placed the pamphlet he was reading down on the nightstand before turning his back on her. Maka only grumbled, glaring at him for his showcase of laziness.

"May I get your name before I go so that they can identify you and switch you to another room without any hassle?" Maka asked before leaving. He only groaned, sitting up and leaving the bed to walk over to her. Hazily, he ran his hand through her hair, only to give it a small pat. She instinctively moved away, blood rushing to her cheeks after his touch. "Soul Evans." He said nonchalantly, before heading back to the bed. She only nodded, before closing the door and heading downstairs to the lobby.

It was as lonesome as ever, considering that the clock struck eleven, the evening becoming cooler and abandoned. The sound of cars passing was now rare and inconsistent. Heading over to the front desk, she rang the bell, only to have a groggy looking man answering, his hair a brown mess. "What may I do for you, tiny?" He asked in a rugged voice, his fingers rubbing against the pastel counter. Bringing up her courage, she told him about the guy in her room, only to make the man sigh. "Are you sure you two aren't related?"

She shook her head.

"Business partners?"

"Nope."

"A prostitute for sexual desire and money lusting trade in?"

"Fuck no!"

"Oh," He chuckled before going under the desk. "Let me check the book and see..." Skimming through the pages, he looked upon the check-ins, only to apologize. "It seems that I placed you in there by mistake. I'm sorry bout that." Maka only nodded. "So, I guess I'll be moved to another room then."

"Yeah, right. I don't got any more rooms." He snorted. "That is, if that fellow is willing to share a bed with ya, unless you don't like to get naughty just by sharing a bed." The man joked as he raided the mini fridge behind him for a bottle of whiskey. Maka only froze there. No, why would date do this to her? And of course, Patty and Liz don't want to be disturbed. Balcony or one night with a stranger?

And it was then that she took her second choice.

"And one more thing girly," The man at the desk chimed out. Maka turned her back away from him, listening. "If you want some nice sex, hit me up and pay me a visit, won't y—" Maka knew better, ignoring him and just walking away. If she knew that staying here would be this wacky, then maybe she should be the one to pick where the would stay the next time around.

Heading up the stairs was tiresome, until she reached the room and came face to face with him again. He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he tried to get a better look at who it was. Recognizing the figure, he immediately stood up and walked to her, waiting for the metal to fall into his hand. "My new room keys?" He asked.

"There are no more." She groaned as she threw her backpack against the bed, only to remove her jacket and discard it on the bed as well. "He said that it's either sharing the room, sleeping outside or being redirected to a farther motel." And with that, Soul went and collected his bag, ready to face the cold. "I'll be nice and let you sleep here. My treat." And with that, he began to leave, only to have Maka grab him by the wrist and stop him in his tracks. "You'll get sick if you stay outside. Do you know how cold it is?"

"But you want this room right? I'm only doing you a favor. Don't worry, I'm not going to be asking for a repayment. Just go to sleep and use this room to your desire." He tried to move, but she wouldn't let go. "I already said you could have the room."

"But," She began. "You'll get sick."

"Do I _look_ like I'll give a damn?" He grumbled. "I'd rather get sick than show up for school." He tried to shake her off, yet she was persistent.

"Just stay here. I can sleep on the floor if you'd like." He shook his head. "Do you know what kind of floor you'd be sleeping on? I wouldn't even try." He warned, turning towards her. She still insisted.

"If you want, we can share the bed..." She offered as her last resort, only to tint her cheeks a bright red, the darkness of the room sealing it off from sight. Soul only chuckled at her, mesmerized in how cute she was acting. "I'll have to somewhat decline. I promised my girlfriend I wouldn't get involved in anything with another girl. But hey," He whispered. "I guess, as long as you won't touch me in any intimate areas."

"As if I'd be so brazen and vulgar." She retorted, only to unzip her bag and grab out a fresh set of pajamas. "I'm going to change and then sleep. Don't try anything, okay?"

"Then don't let me know." He mumbled as he retired to the bed. "I'm taking the right side, if you're okay with that."

"Why would you say that?" She asked as she walked into the bathroom, lifting her she'd over her head.

"I've roomed with many people, including those who have picky preferences." Using the word stranger would be rude, yet he knew that there were other ways to explain. "I'm just being polite, you being someone different and all..." He said as he drew the covers over his frigid body.

"Oh," She muttered as she unfastened the clasps of her bra and threw on her night top. It wasn't that she was trying to get down with the guy, she just didn't like to wear her bra while sleeping, since it felt uncomfortable. And besides, she was flat-chested (Still!) and there wasn't anything that would arouse him, so win-win. "Well, thanks." And with that, she slipped on her pajama pants and walked out, folding her clothes for tomorrow. Stretching, she made her way to the bed, ready to turn in for the night.

She lifted the covers, checking for bugs, and that he was still clothed. He noticed her fetish movement, questioning her. "What are you doing...?"

"Why, I'm making sure that I'm not flea bitten or raped tonight!" She said straightforwardly, before lazing into the bed, able to keep distance from him. It was uncomfortable at first, and it included a bit of hogging the blanket, yet they managed to find a way around this situation, letting their bodies rest. "Good night, Soul." She growled, turning her back on him. He remained silent, making her frown. "Rude, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" He retorted. "_Who_ was the one that wanted to get some sleep?"

"Well, it's impolite to be ignorant, so..." She murmured.

"Then tell me your name then." He muttered. "I'm not the only impolite one here you know..." She only glared, the picture of daggers flying into his back playing through her mind.

"Maka. Maka Albarn." She said in a firm voice.

"Oh, ok." He murmured softly. "Nite, Maka." And with that, he drifted off to sleep.

As for Maka, her eyes were wide open, sleep unable to sink its jaws into her. Her body was still wanting to move, yet with her woes swirling around her brain and the man's loud snoring, progressive sleep was no longer an appropriate target. Eyes wide open, she just cleared her mind, doing her best to get some rest without the distraction of that loud snoring.

The next day had come quickly than she expected, the sun piercing the dusty and muggy windows. Her green eyes opened to a crack-filled ceiling, blinking a couple of times as they tried to process the scenario. A soft jazz tune lingered, driving her curiosity. She turned over to the night stand, the clock reading seven forty-three, the radio playing softly.

Remembering the guy from last night, her hand felt for a warm efficiency, yet it seemed moreover the ice-cold sheets. Turning, she found the other side of the bed empty, no traces of the man beside her last night. Maybe he left in the wee hours, hoping to not bother her for anything else. Smiling at that assumption, she crawled out of bed, ruffling her sand blonde hair, and grabbed her clothes from last night so that she could change and meet Liz and Patty downstairs.

Slipping on the black wool jacket, she grabbed her backpack near the nightstand, only to find the brochure she saw him reading last night. Picking it up, she skimmed through it, only to feel giddy. This was a student introductory to Shibusen! This is what he was reading? That only meant one thing, out of every possible exclamation.

Fate _had_ to be a cruel jackass.


	2. Escaping A Somewhat Sinister Prison

Summary: AU! Maybe enrolling here was some big coincidence. She definitely never understood the arts, especially since she lacked in that stray. She never got the warning. But when she felt his hand in hers, his warm lips melting into her skin, it was then that he pulled her trigger.

Rated M for language and themes. Lemons to be indicated in later chapters. I do not own Soul Eater. Credits go to its creator.

So, I decided to do a background on Soul too, so that you guys will be able to get a prologue from our two main protagonists. I procrastinated with this, mostly since it was either a Oreimo marathon, or finishing this. My answer is obvious... So expect a Oreimo fan fiction pretty soon! But yes, I have finished this. I thank those who favorited this, followed this, or commented! This stops at about +6k, so I'm pretty happy.

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**II. Escaping A "Somewhat" Sinister Prison**

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In retrospect, it seemed obscure that he'd assume that his good life could only deteriorate.

The man with luscious ruby-red eyes, strangely enticing snow-white hair. A figure that mesmerized the feminine eyes that watched him. Add his piano playing, and he was tingling to the senses. A strong-hearted attitude, his stubbornness another key to his success. You could imagine that he had the perfect life as well.

You _definitely_ thought wrong.

Soul Evans, a young man with talent. He was living the good life, being under a wealthy and talented roof, lest say that things couldn't get any better. His future was in the bag. Unless, that was if Wes Evans, the virtuoso violinist, had anything to say. Being the firstborn and well-influenced type, he was surely living up to his family's title. And that deemed on Soul, who was thought to mature in his sound as well. They thought that he could sound as good as his brother... Genetics they thought, since they were a musical family. Surely Soul would be as good, yet after countless practices, he never seemed to sound as good.

The Evans were renowned for their musical talents; each person able to play an instrument and end up successful and well known. As well as their talent, there was their high-class and strict expectations upon how music was to be executed. There was no such thing as good enough when it came to their music.

And with that in mind, they were able to keep the chain of melodic trances going, ending at Wes Evans, the splendid violinist, and Soul Evans, the pianist. The only way to keep the line fresh was if Soul was just as good as Wes, which practically seemed as the inevitableness of failure.

Tired of trying, mommy and daddy Evans did their best to acclaim their second son, even though it wasn't necessary because of Wes and all the firstborn son act. Piano teacher after piano teacher, yet none of them seemed to help him improve his playing. Vulnerable, they called out Wes to help him, only succumbing Soul to many hours of sibling sharing and hell time with his vicious elder.

And so, today was the same as usual, the two dreadful hours in the music room; him, his uptight brother, and the grand piano that beckoned him to its side. The same heart-wrenching sheet music was laid out, the notes waiting to be tantalized. It starts out at a moderato, yet the piece suddenly slams him into a swirling fit of accidentals and pulse-racing allegro. Of course, for Wes, it was obvious that he'd be able to play it after just a small practice time, yet it seemed that infinity had swallowed Soul's chances of perfecting the piece. That weight, and the harsh expectations of the outcome after rehearsing the music.

Wes immediately stopped him as soon as he approached the start of the sixteenth notes, ushering him to recognize the key, time, and execution of the note. Yet it was annoying already to the younger one, for each piano lesson, that's all they've focused on. The only piece of the music they've ever dissected was the first part, which was boring, yet somewhat compelling.

It was a matter of humiliation, irony, and embarrassment all wrapped and smothered with mockery. And of course, Soul would nod, only to begin and have Wes scold him for be terribly inaccurate. But, you couldn't blame a person that only sight-read the section. In fact, he never even tried trenching over those interesting waters.

"You see, you have to step on that pedal right there when you get to that area. It's legato, isn't it?" He lectured, irritating the hell out of the boy. Learning from him was like taking nails to the back.

"Yes," Soul answered nonchalantly, as if trying to listen and take his brother's words to mind. He knew this already. So well, that he could instinctively name all the elements blind-folded and hand-cuffed. This was nothing more than a broken tape recorder.

"Well, do that then. I'm tired of reviewing this with you." Wes cursed, rubbing his temples as he grabbed a bottle of water and drank an awfully large fill. Placing the bottle by the side of the piano, he began to point out more obvious things, pieces that Soul could just roll his eyes at. Who did his brother think he was? Did his brother really consider him this brain-dead?

"And I keep on telling you, add more—"

"Alright. I get it."

"Then do it then." Wes scowled. "I'm tired of you wasting _my_ time for _my_ practice. How come you have to be this horrible?"

"How come you're this sassy and uptight?" Soul turned to him, glaring at him. "If you're so stressed about not having your practice time, then just tell mom that you're finished. I don't want to be toyed around with the likes of you."

Before Wes could retaliate, a young female servant entered the room, bowing at their presence. Folding her hands, she reminded them that dinner was ready, and that it was pâté, only for the boys to nod. With that, she left, leaving them back to their quarreling.

Wes, not wanting to stress himself, instead only left Soul alone, rubbing his forehead as he murmured rashly, pushing his hair away from his face. Lessons were pretty much over as soon as that same maid came in to tell them that dinner was ready, making him sigh in relief. He shouldn't be wasting his talent on his brother's worthlessness. In fact, shouldn't he just attend that fancy school for fine arts? That Shibusen shit that he was just too good for. All he would need to do is get the brochure, announce it at dinner, and ship away his own brother. The benefits were absolute for his personnel; being that he could hone his violin skills before his next recital, instead of wasting it o his failure-of-a-brother.

Instead of heading towards the stairs and into the delicious awaiting pâté that smelt as nearly as bad as the corpse flower blooming away in the garden, he left towards his room, only to sit down in front of the computer. Awakening it, he immediately headed toward the Internet, his fingers fumbling as he typed down the academy's name, only to have millions of results pop up. Clicking the first one, he examined the well-organized page, only to recognize the learning curriculum. If this was what could reward two years of daily, back-breaking piano lessons for Soul, then this was his ticket. Hooking up the printer cord to the software, he immediately printed out the brochure as his mind felt the rush of success. He _finally_ got rid of such menacing woes!

.

.

.

As for Soul, he still sat in the music room, skimming his fingers over each peculiar key, bowing his head. His lessons always ended like this. Wes leaving, rubbing his head in shame, and regularly letting his fingers trample over each key, the soft and high pitches echoing throughout the room. He wouldn't play anything in particular. Instead, he'd just sit there, locking in some personal time with his gift and curse. Pâté nights like these were best avoidable, the negative side being the acrid smell, and the main reason being that the smelly concoction was one of Wes's favorite dinners.

Why did he start playing piano in the first place? If it had been such a burden back then, he would have been able to escape the thorns before it consumed him. Yet he gave everything about it time, and here he was, what his brother called a disgrace, and what his parents thought was feeble. Maybe if there had been other things that he'd be able to do that could top Wes, then he could. Yet having practical and musically motivated parents was definitely not going to bring him anywhere with that plan.

Wes didn't even play piano very often, and here he was ironically, teaching how to finish the job.

His older brother was making _him_ the flea.

Damn you, Wes.

Cursing his brother under his breath, he grabbed the sheet music and prepared his fingers, the two red orbs scanning over the whirling notes. With just one note, he began, tripping over accidental over accidental, tying his fingers up. No wonder why Wes was being so picky. He couldn't even play one measure without screwing up.

Giving in to the vivacity and difficulty of the music, he gathered it all up into a pile, only to fix it nicely on the stand. Closing the lid of the piano keys shut, he pushed in his chair and made his way out of the room, the smelling salt of the pâté aching to be eaten. He hated these dinners. The piano was only a barbell on his foot, a burden on his parent's expectations and behalf. His life was now a crown of thorns around his head.

It seemed that the end of the line had come _too_ soon.

Just a simple whiff of the atmosphere lead to his conclusion that something fishy, salty, and yet so foul was to occur as soon as he took that first bite at dinner. Stepping down the stairs, he waltzed his way to the left of the stairs, the dim lights awaiting his stroll through the small hallway and into the fragile, simply exquisite and doily decorated table which his mother had requested on her taste of style and decoration. His eager eyes searched for a carbon-copy of him, sitting at the fine wooden chair with the soft cushioning, orbs staring hungrily into the plate as if ready to pounce. But instead of hunger and anxiousness, he found in his pools what appeared to be sinister and satisfied. And on top of that, Wes seemed quiet.

Too quiet...

Soul took his seat, briskly pulling out the chair and resting into it, the wooden frame acting as a rest for his back after a long practice. His dinner was sitting there, yet Soul could have sworn that he could feel the food capture him in its fumes. While it strangle him and mashed his face against the gooey substance, Wes clearly enjoyed his meal, savoring each bite like it was his last.

By the time everyone had devoured the last of the pasty and hearty meal, it was the usual conversation with Mother Evans about their day, and a question from Father Evans about their youngest son's piano progress. "It's nice to know that you guys had got along. I'm happy that today I wasn't told of any mishaps or light arguments." The middle-aged woman gave her sons a warm smile, her plump lips having plastic written all over it. Nodding, the two boys sat there, as if they were waiting for punishment. Their father spoke next, asking Wes about Soul and the lesson today.

It was that question that could make it or break it for Soul.

"Why, everything went well. His dynamics and pitch were all in a good range and focus, and he's slowly progressing towards the next area of the song." Wes explained, his head high and his dignity over going his normal prestige. Soul only sat there, waiting and hoping that his father's reaction would be as if responding to a compliment or an insult to his family's name. Instead, he only nodded, having no comments whatsoever. Yet Wes didn't stop there. From under the white tablecloth, he pulled out a small brochure from his trousers, introducing it to his parents. "Maybe if we gave him a little more fuel, then we could make him better than he is now." Wes smiled like a business agent, shooting a quick smirk at his brother. Soul only glared back, only to hear a delightful noise from his mother. It couldn't be...

"Oh Wes!" She squealed out like a lover. "Are you sure this may help Soul? I'd rather prefer you teaching him by hand but..." Wes only shook his head. "I have thins to practice. I have a recital in Vienna in about two weeks."

Mother Evans only nodded, letting her gentle hand lay on her husband's shoulder, rubbing it affectionately. Turning towards her, he placed down the piece of the light and flaky berry pie that was served for dessert, only to have his eyes dart towards the pamphlet. Taking it from his wife's hands, he quickly skimmed through it, only to have a neutral look in his eyes. "I don't like this tactic."

"But, why not?" She asked. "I mean, it'll save Wes some precious practice time, and plus, it says here that they're a high quality school, as well as their expectations of the students." She mentioned as she flipped open to the guild lines and expectations of the brochure.

"Don't believe everything you read, dear." Father Evans muttered as he placed a hand on her back. "You never know, for their school could actually be scrappier than what they try to protrude in their claims. These luxuries could all be lies if we're not careful." Soul's face brightened. Wes, dimmed in sudden failure. Yet the tables turned as their father got up and picked up the phone, dialing the school's number.

Of course, Soul wasn't that worried. For one thing, the school could be closed, or stopped accepting applications for further enrollment. He was off the hook.

"Ah, yes." His father groaned over the phone as a callous voice answered back, stating that he was the school's headmaster. "I'm calling about the priorities and advantages of your school, on the behalf of my son's possible enrollment..." He spoke, Soul feeling the adrenaline rush through his veins. What school was open this late?

"Yes," His father spoke, tapping his fingers against the wooden counter. It was about ten minutes before he had ended the conversation. "Okay then, I'll have him in by your first day. Thank you, good night." And with that, the phone clicked off, his father nodding at his wife, Wes grinning in victory. Soul felt himself die on the inside, due to his parents had fallen under Wes' trance, and all three of them were packing him away for their selfish needs. His life was over. This, proving that Wes hated him, and that he was a disgrace in his parent's eyes.

Wes, you dirty son of a—

"So it is," Mother Evans nodded as he got up from his spot at the table. "You've done a good thing for your brother, Wes." The eldest smirked in victory, only to stand up and walk out of the dining room, his head high, shoulders broad, and his aura easily hidden from his parents.

As for Soul, he only placed his napkin on top of his plate, bowing in thanks. His parents stopped him, though, only to tell him that the first day was in three days, and that they were taking the initiative to enroll him at least by tomorrow. And with that, he was sent to the bath, without anymore words muttered.

He stripped out of his day clothes, the warm water kissing his skin gently. Soaking in the water was a delicacy that he enjoyed for its pleasurable and relaxing atmosphere. Yet tonight seemed to be very stressful, for it seemed that his tension could not be calmed by the bath, or even the soothing autumn oils, the apple spice or cinnamon pumpkin unable to release his thoughts. All he wanted to do was to strangle Wes and forget everything about this place.

Dipping himself into the frothy tub, he closed his eyes shut, a melody playing throughout the house. Wes could be practicing at this our, that same piece that he grew up listening to. Hearing it day after day, Soul could only clench his teeth, enveloping himself fully in the bath, hoping that drowning himself would help. Instead, he only submerged, regretting on that decision. Life wasn't over yet.

And hell, there were benefits that could blossom from this. Like getting away from this crap shack.

Eureka!

Stepping out of the bath, he dried himself off, letting the bubbles drain away. He felt guilty that he couldn't savor his last rejuvenating baths before he left this place, but he had no other choice. Dressing in nothing but a clad of boxers, he began packing up and preparing for a new heaven.

A place where he could run away.

After just an hour of packing, he finally got his bag ready, all his valuables in one small backpack. The clock ticked away, reading about a quarter till midnight. Wes and his parents probably have settled in, the maids leaving for another grueling day. Soul was still wide awake, only showing small amounts of drowsiness. Calling it a night, he dove into his bed, the crimson red sheets binding him tight. His eyes still lay wide open, until satisfaction was able to swallow him and drain him into slumber.

.

.

.

The next day was the same, lessons in the morning, Wes cool as a cucumber. He sat down on a rocking chair, drinking water as Soul played his way over the soft moderate area of the piece, he approached the fast section, only to stop, though this time it wasn't because of Wes. Wes immediately turned to his brother, his face full of interrogation. "Why'd you stop? I didn't stop you this time."

"But aren't you afraid of me playing scraggly and messing up your violin sensation and talent?" Soul retaliated, glaring at him. His emotions about last night were still fresh, blundering through today so that he wouldn't be able to see his brother's face tomorrow.

"Well," Wes started, moving towards his brother. "Since you'll be leaving, I'd like to try a progress test." Soul looked at him funny, glaring. "Why?"

"To track your progress so that we'll have before and after samples. Think of it as an evaluation and compare." Wes said gleefully as he ushered his brother to play. Giving in, Soul began playing, making lesser mistakes than yesterday. Wes' expression changed a bit, practically amazed at what progress his brother was exemplifying before him. Yet Soul still wasn't good enough to get out of the school enrollment. That was, in his opinion.

Soul could feel the pressure Wes was pressing against him. His playing had suddenly increased in speed, the ability to capture and execute each note now deteriorating. Prestige was dying, as well as the beat of the piece. Wes suddenly stopped him, clapping at his performance. Yet in Soul's perspective, it seemed that he was only trying to be polite, and truthfully, he believed that the quality was average at least measures. But maybe, his brother wasn't as bad when it came to times like these...

The day seemed to pass by fast, and by five in the afternoon, Soul was down by the car, his parents and brother sending him off. "Study hard, son." His mother encouraged, handing him the brochure. He nodded. Father Evans however, remained silent, and after placing a hand on his youngest son's shoulder, he left into the house, showing no signs of emotion.

His brother opened up the taxi door, directing his hand like a steward. Annoyed, Soul only followed, entering the vehicle. The chauffeur immediately ignited the engine, pressing on the gas as he drove off towards the sunset.

Soul could see those hideous faces; his mother in tears, his brother comforting her, and his father watching from the balcony of the bedrooms, a glass of wine in his hand. New opportunities were ahead of him, many more to come up as the road to escape opened its arms wide for him.

"Your parents sold you out, huh?" The driver commented, eyes fixed on the road. From the corner of his eye, he saw the white-haired guy nod his head. Pouting, he began conversing to pass the time. "Where you'd be heading after I drop you off at your first stop, young man?" He asked, trying to avoid the other drivers. "A job interview?"

"Nope." He shook his head.

"Meeting up with someone?"

"No."

"You're running away?"

"Close," Soul muttered. "Why do you care?"

"Well," The driver mumbled. "I experienced the same. Yet you know, living life has its perks."

Soul could only agree.

After three hours, the taxi finally stopped at a beaten down motel, screeching to a stop. Paying the driver with money that he got (stole) from his parents, he made his way into the lobby, only to see one of his old friends from grade school, at the concierge. "Black*Star's here...?" He muttered to himself as he made his way up to the front desk, listening in to Black*Star's conversation with the associate.

"You only have rooms on the second floor?" He complained, slamming his hands against the counter. "Do you know who I am?" The man at the desk only sighed, only to snap back at him. "Um, no. If you only appeared in those vague magazines, then maybe I'd give you some credit and initiative and give you the king suite."

Black*Star only grabbed the guy by his collar, threatening him with his fist. "Don't make me, sir. I wouldn't try overthrow someone like me. I might be one of the best things that's ever happened at this beaten-down place!" He spread as the guests behind them were becoming uneasy and angered.

"Do you want a room or not?" The man retorted, ripping Black*Star off of him. "Well?"

"Of course. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come here." He said, crossing his arms over his chest. And with that, he left, unable to notice one of his best friends who was right behind him the whole time.

Walking up to the desk, the bell man quickly fixed himself, only to ask. "Was that a friend of yours?" Minced, Soul was in between getting a room or getting mobbed by angry guests still in line.

"Nope. I have _no_ idea who that guy is."

.

.

.

He could agree that the room was _too_ shabby.

There were so many things to fix; the broken windows, the bathroom having so much mildew and leaky faucets, and the wall very un-appealing, chasing many people away. No wonder there were so many angry and complaining guests at the desk. It also wasn't a surprise that they had their bags too.

He decided that he would just shower in the morning, since he wasn't ready to risk dying in this room. Grabbing the pamphlet from his backpack, he began scrolling over it. Pretty soon, a few hours passed, and he only finished reading the curriculum courses. Thank goodness, they had some other things that could better hi than piano. Cocking an eye, he could have sworn he heard the door open. Not minding, he continued to read, until a girl appeared in his sights.

A cute one too.

He examined the girl, his eyes lingering across the figure before him. Instantly, he could list the oblivious and intriguing things just looking at her. Ash-brown pig tails, emerald-green eyes and black worn-down hoodie. His conclusion was simple; another moe, gothic chick.

"What are you doing in my motel room?" She asked frisking, seemingly mimicking his envision. He could sense that she too, was examining him, as if she'd seen an unidentified and peculiar object in the mirror. It was definite that he could notice her prominent blush thanks to the fact that the light from the lamp was a bit dim. He didn't look up from the brochure, beginning to ask of her presence.

"They gave you the keys to this room?" He muttered. "Weird, considering that I checked in here first." Hoping that comment would chase her away, he directed his eyes toward the classes he could take, debating and scowling at what limits he had.

"I've traveled all day and I need to rest. Find another room so before things get nasty." She warned him, which seemed to have no effect whatsoever. He only yawned and retaliated without emotion. There was no time for this nonsense. This girl definitely was messed up in her senses.

"So have I. And the term I believe is, I got here first." He said, his ind drifting away.

"So? Go find another room to sleep in then. My friends are next door, and they made some arrangements that we'd be together." She said as she crossed her arms over her chest. His mind had formed the answer that the girl in front of him was one of those girly types who would whine for their way.

"Then go sleep in the room on the other side of them." He grumbled.

"The balcony?" She questioned, shocked by his lack of attention and thought.

"Hey. That works too." He mentally rewarded himself at that witty response. Yet the girl didn't budge.

"Well, no. I have a big day ahead of me, so I'm not going to wear a sickly pale face on either. Maybe if we go down to the concierge, then maybe we can work some things out." She insisted, toying with the hem line of her plaid skirt.

"Nah, I'm good. You can do that though. I'll be happy to move, as long as you can get me another room to sleep in." He groaned as he placed the pamphlet he was reading down on the nightstand before turning his back on her. The girl only grumbled, glaring at him for his showcase of laziness.

"May I get your name before I go so that they can name you and switch you to another room without any hassle?" The girl asked before leaving. He only groaned, sitting up and leaving the bed to walk over to her. Hazily, he ran his hand through her hair, only to give it a small pat. She instinctively moved away, blood rushing to her cheeks after his touch. "Soul Evans." He said nonchalantly, before heading back to the bed. She only nodded, before closing the door and heading downstairs to the lobby.

While he sat there, he wondered more about the girl. Sure, his actions before her was a bit too much. Running his hand through her hair could probably equal mixed signals, whether it'd be lust, a misunderstanding, or a rant about hygiene. All he could do now was wait until she came up and apologized, and he'd have the room back to the silent presence he adored until she abruptly disturbed it.

For now, all he could do was wait.

Pretty soon, the door opened, and the girl reappeared. He expected a new pair of keys to fly into his face or hands, yet it didn't happen. Something was definitely up, besides the ceiling dangerously close to falling. Standing up, he walked towards her. "My new room keys?" He asked. Oh boy, did he need rest... Rubbing his eyes, he searched her hands, yet their was no hints of pranks or metal objects in sight.

"There are no more." She groaned as she threw her backpack against the bed, only to remove her jacket and discard it on the bed as well. "He said that it's either sharing the room, sleeping outside or being redirected to a farther motel." And with that, Soul went and collected his bag, ready to face the cold. "I'll be nice and let you sleep here. My treat." Boy, was that his sacrifice. And with that, he began to leave, only to have her grab him by the wrist and stop him in his tracks. "You'll get sick if you stay outside. Do you know how cold it is?" Yes, he knew. He was trying to be a gentleman.

"But you want this room right? I'm only doing you a favor. Don't worry, I'm not going to be asking for a repayment. Just go to sleep and use this room to your wish." He tried to move, but she wouldn't let go. "I already said you could have the room."

"But," She began. "You'll get sick."

She _cares_?

"Do I look like I'll give a damn?" He grumbled. "I'd rather get sick than show up for school." He tried to shake her off, yet she was persistent.

"Just stay here. I can sleep on the floor if you'd like." He shook his head. "Do you know what kind of floor you'd be sleeping on? I wouldn't even try." He warned, turning towards her. She still insisted. This one wasn't going down without a fight.

"If you want, we can share the bed..." She offered as her last resort, only to tint her cheeks a bright red, the darkness of the room sealing it off from sight. Soul only chuckled at her, mesmerized in how cute she was acting. "I'll have to somewhat decline. I promised my girlfriend I wouldn't get involved in anything with another girl." What he said was definitely a fifty-fifty, since he wasn't comfortable with sharing a room with a random girl. "But hey," He whispered. "I guess, as long as you won't touch me in any intimate areas."

"As if I'd be so brazen and vulgar." She retorted, only to unzip her bag and grab out a fresh set of pajamas. "I'm going to change and then sleep. Don't try anything, okay?"

"Then don't let me know." He mumbled as he retired to the bed. "I'm taking the right side, if you're okay with that."

"Why would you say that?" She asked as she walked into the bathroom, lifting her she'd over her head.

"I've roomed with many people, including those who have picky preferences." Using the word stranger would be rude, yet he knew that there were other ways to explain. "I'm just being polite, you being someone different and all..." He said as he drew the covers over his frigid body. It was true, courtesy of Wes when it came to staying at two bed hotels and one room villas.

"Oh," She muttered as she unfastened the clasps of her bra and threw on her night top. "Well, thanks." And with that, she slipped on her pajama pants and walked out, folding her clothes for tomorrow. Stretching, she made her way to the bed, ready to turn in for the night.

He observed her outfit, surprise in her taste for night wear. It seemed cute how the green color of her pajamas matched her eyes. But boy, was he relieved that she didn't sleep in lingerie or anything skimpy.

She lifted the covers, checking for bugs, and that he was still clothed. He noticed her fetish movement, questioning her. "What are you doing...?"

"Why, I'm making sure that I'm not flea-bitten or raped tonight!" She said straightforwardly, before lazing into the bed, able to keep distance from him. It was uncomfortable at first, and it included a bit of hogging the blanket, yet they managed to find a way around this situation, letting their bodies rest. "Good night, Soul." She growled, turning her back on him. He remained silent, making her frown. "Rude, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" He retorted. "Who was the one that wanted to get some sleep?"

"Well, it's impolite to be ignorant, so..." She murmured.

"Then tell me your name then." He muttered. "I'm not the only impolite one here you know..." She only glared, the picture of daggers flying into his back playing through her mind.

"Maka. Maka Albarn." She said in a firm voice.

"Oh, ok." He murmured softly. "Nite, Maka." And with that, he drifted off to sleep. His eyes were still wide open, the awkwardness only growing. Yet soon he was asleep, hoping that his snores wouldn't irritate her.

As for Maka, her eyes were wide open, sleep unable to sink its jaws into her. Her body was still wanting to move, yet with her woes swirling around her brain and the man's loud snoring, progressive sleep was no longer an appropriate target. Eyes wide open, she just cleared her mind, doing her best to get some rest without the distraction of that loud snoring.

.

.

.

The next morning, he woke up with a jolt, the clock reading six AM. Rubbing his eye, he reached for the clock, but instead, his hand landed on something soft.

Something warm...

And _squishy_...?

His eyes opened up as he turned to where his hand had landed. Pulse racing, he quickly snapped his hand back to his side. Blood was threatening to fall from his nose. His hand didn't land on the clock. It was her breast, of all things. He just wished that clocks were squishy so that this wasn't as embarrassing. Hoping that she didn't notice, he turned on the radio a touch, the soft sound of jazz playing.

He was quick with dressing, slipping on his clothes from yesterday, hurrying so that he wouldn't be a burden to the girl. Grabbing his bag, he slipped on his shoes and closed the door, looking at her one last time. And with that, he left to the curb, the taxi right there to grab him. His freedom was just adding, the atmosphere fusing with electricity.

And with that, he finally hit the road, the taxi speeding its way towards Shibusen's campus. Now, all he needed to do was look at the brochure and all his worries would be gone. It's right in his shirt pocket...

But it wasn't there.

He instantly darted to his bag, searching each and every liable pocket, only to cringe in his seat. This was not cool, this was mental. He lost his brochure. The resource that was to help him at the campus. Now what was he going to do? By the time he'll step foot on those grounds, he'd be wandering around like a tourist without any prior knowledge. He'd be a blind man.

He'd look like a loser.

Stopping his negative thoughts, he retraced his steps, organizing all that he's done before coming here. The only phenomenal thing place that could appear in his mind was the motel, and the strange girl that he slept with. Beside, that was. No sex, no touching, nothing of that sort.

Girl, bed, sleep, nightstand, brochure, packed, left...

Nightstand, brochure, left... His mind was lighting, fusing with anticipation. Yet other things seemed to tingle in his mind, making him whirl in his emotions.

_Girl, sleep, bed..._

Brochure, nightstand... _One night-stand...?_

Honestly, it sounded like he was writing a love song. But what's worst...

Damn, he just left it right by the girl at the motel. No, just no...

He was better of sticking to the fact that _yes_; fate _was_ a jack ass.


	3. Opening Ceremony

Summary: AU! Maybe enrolling here was some big coincidence. She definitely never understood the arts, especially since she lacked in that stray. She never got the warning. But when she felt his hand in hers, his warm lips melting into her skin, it was then that he pulled her trigger.

Rated M for language and citrus themes. Lemons to be indicated in later chapters. I do not own Soul Eater.

Bit rusty. Haven't written anything in a while. Sorry. Mostly school and what not, and my guilt for not updating this.

* * *

**III. Opening Ceremony**

* * *

After that night, she swore to keep the barrier between men and her bubble a big gaping trench.

Surely, sharing a bed with him wasn't all that bad, it's just the awkwardness that infiltrated her. What two people with no relations whatsoever, slept together in the same bed? Exactly, best predictions that could race through a perverse mind like hers. Maybe it was the toxic fumes from the dying AC that made her think this, but maybe that experience was a bit enthralling...

Making sure that she had all her valuables, she grabbed her bag and shut off the radio, happy to be leaving this dirty rat encounter. Sure, at least it was a pit stop, yet she learned one new thing. Never trust Liz and Patty when it came to overnight stops, which added to the list of cheap perfumes and flirting with random strangers. Besides, it would only end like today, where dirty things, physically, socially and mentally would just haunt her and traumatized her for weeks.

As soon as she stepped out of the musky hotel room, her emerald eyes soon caught sight of Liz and Patty, who had coincidently exited their room at the same time. Patty's blonde hair was tussle up, while Liz's was fixed up, the siblings both wearing varsity jackets, which had the initials of Death City and the official name for the sports team for this city scrawled under it. They definitely looked the part for the day, a goal Maka had tried to accomplish. Yet with pig tails, a flat chest and maturing body, she had a long way to go.

"Good morning, Maka..." Patty yawned as her drowsiness dawned on her.

"Morning..." She returned the greeting, tucking away the Shibusen pamphlet. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," Patty smiled, stretching herself out, a small pop from her neck omitting. "And you?"

"Oh," Maka could only pause in her tracks. What could she tell them? How could she explain her night without being bugged for the next few leagues before reaching the academy and separating from the blondes? "I guess it was okay." The two only nodded, only to turn their backs and start to walk down the stairwell, the indecisive and buffered teen sighing in relief, yet the vice-grip on her consciousness was still crushing her down. Was it okay to lie to your friends about sleeping in the same bed with a random stranger?

Yes, definitely. If it was to brag, it would be a whole different story. A literal one, as if she just slept with one of the men in her novels. A hot, wild night, sticky condoms rolled up and invading the trash can, and the man of her dreams staring her lovingly into her emerald orbs. Of course, this seemed too superfluous, yet in her head, it sounded too pitch-perfect.

Heading down the dreadful and urine lingering staircase seemed to be the first challenge to summon towards her, even with her mind being awake for only about thirty minutes or less. The stench of the heavy-handled liquor and disposal perfumed the air so heavily, that each step down felt like she was escaping the fumes of a burning building. After what seemed to be eternity, she victoriously merged out of the poverty alive, able to regain the equal amounts of pure air. If this was how motels were on hygiene and performance, she would have condemned them for practically trying to attempt murder, death by poor attention of unattended staircases.

By the time she got to the curb of the motel, Liz and Patty were strapped in, wide smirks on their faces. It was no surprise, for it was the first day of school for them. But how did they manage to hold even a smile when they had to pass through such a pigsty?

Ignoring that observation, she immediately opened the door to the car, the roof drawn down and open for the warm and balmy Monday. Strapping herself in, Liz began to crank up the radio, the alluring sounds of rock anointing the grounds and began leaving a major wake up call for the other guests at the time. Maka could never understand how Liz and Patty could do such... Weird things. From sleeping in poverty to causing hearing problems at seven in the morning, it was no mystery how big these two were about the term "footloose" and "fancy-free."

"All set?" Patty asked, placing sunglasses on. Liz nodded, where as Maka rather ignored the question. And with that, Liz stepped on the gas, approaching the turn and entering the highway. Wind rustling through their hair, they drove vastly among the lengthy route, the hours ticking away till they took their steps as students at Shibusen.

The road was winding, gas-reeking and pillaging, often stringing up in tough traffic, certain places having a smooth flow, easier to maneuver instead of stuck in a time-wasting standstill. Maka, being tired and tuckered out from last night, could only lull herself, the wind bellowing in her face, the windy weather encompassing her. Never was she this tired on the first day of school, especially since she drowsiness was no friend of hers. And here she was, practically falling asleep in a noisy, packed, and bustling environment. She was soon the complete opposite of Liz, who was actually letting her city roots ingrain, leaving some wry comments and snapping to the jazzy upbeat of the song playing on the radio. Surely enough, it was a sharp and somewhat noticeable switch-up between personalities, the once confident and stern bookworm now hazy, groggy, and lazily clearing her mind of what she had entirely planned on how to make her best first impressions.

"So..." Patty chimed out, breaking the silence between them. The stressful seven-thirty block was approaching, leaving them stuck in a few areas of students heading off towards the same destination. "You guys excited about today?"

"Hm," Liz mumbled, scratching her head. "I dunno. Yet I'm pretty sure that I won't be getting along with any of the teachers."

"Really?" Patty gasped, holding her hand up to her mouth. "Is it because you're afraid of those creepy, strict teachers?" Liz cocked a brow at her racism, only to fix the side mirrors. "I'm not saying because of the behalf on racism and all that shit. I'm just worried if they're strict on work and self-direction. You know, since I'm practically one-hundred percent..."

"White?"

"Excuse you, Patty?"

"I said procrastination. Right, Maka?" Patty giggled as her cheeks began to burn red. Instead of a simple nod, she remained still, not minding about the discriminate talk up front. Irritated, Patty only turned back around, singing along to the song on the radio. "I've got all them girls by me... Hey, Maka's good at singing, right?" Liz shook her free hand. Maka dimmed, grabbing the Shibusen packet and whacking Patty in the back of the head with it.

"Well," Liz began. "I guess you could say she's pretty good."

"What about dancing?"

"Er, average."

"Drawing?"

"I think her best was stick figures... I don't know..."

"Playing an instrument?"

"Let's not wage a war here, shall we?"

It was a cliché to not think that Maka was not offended. To be able to defend yourself against such bloodthirsty bullets like so, a body of titanium would be a better shell rather than what the flesh had to offer. Other than that, Liz's words were strong enough to create a fissure big enough to swallow her being and the overwhelmingly large amount of confidence with it. Worst, it was indirect, as if the living emerald orbs had disappeared, ghosting around the back seat filled with fashion magazines and nail polish stains on the, pale-mustard colored leather. Nothing but another neon green nail polish stain that spilt as abstract yet ugly baby barf green.

And with that, they remained perfectly speechless for the rest of the trip, daring not to trip over any defaults. Liz kept her focus dead on the road, Patty sound asleep, and Maka ignoring the grasps of dizziness as she pulled a novel and began reading. Thank goodness though, that they were sitting apart from each other, for if it had been either one of them sitting next to Maka at the time, then the varsity jackets and their red cardigans the siblings wore wouldn't still be as regal and as ripped as they wanted it to be.

...

Pretty soon, the lining of the campus came into view, the red roofs looming over. With a squeal of delight, Patty immediately flashed her eyes at everything that came into sight; the long road that was waiting to be entered, the school lunging overhead, giving off a hazy yet mysteriously welcoming feel; the curiosity never-ending.

They ended up parking in the nearest stall, yet it seemed leagues away from the skirts of the campus. Grabbing their papers, Liz locked the car, only to follow the other two girls heading off toward the main entrance. Patty smiled the closer they inched, where as Maka felt her stomach twist, yet managed to keep her stand. Many other students came walking into the picture, holding their baggage, laughing and talking excruciatingly loud enough to let the whole world know about what hot color panties they were wearing, or how as low as the pimps checking out the new shipment. No matter the type, each one was letting their social butterfly wind spread wide open, cracking open that can of cola, and snapping their fingers, best be the infamous, "oh no she didn't!"

Reaching sight of the fountain in front of the auditorium, they could feel their spirits only grow. The square area was swarming with groups, freshman buddies, high-tailing sophomores, swag induced juniors, and hell, the dirtiest of seniors, spouting out the most weirdest stories from partying at night clubs to who and who not to sleep with. Everyone had their own style, own flair, own person. 'Maybe...' Maka would wondered. If she could only make this her home instead of what her father provided. If this place was to be her new home, then she had to build the nest until it was to he liking.

A spectacle of white caught her eye in a blur as she walked through the scenery. A very familiar head of white hair, something that was yet to be discussed. Was this really taking fate _too_ far?

"I'll meet you guys inside," Liz chimed as she waved at a couple of hipsters sitting on the rim of the fountain. "I just need to get some free time for now..."

"Okay, I'll see you inside!" Patty chimed out as she scampered off towards the nearest vending machine, leaving the sandy-haired, flat chested outcast standing foolhardy all by herself. With a small sigh, she gathered up what little dignity she had, and the chocolate-brown satchel her father insisted that she bring, bought for her out of papa's tuition, and made her way to a melancholic bench by the grove of trees siding the auditorium. Just sitting there for even a second sunk her boat deeper, eyes focused on how Liz was conversing with the color of her hand motions, and how those short throated and muffin top imbeciles instantly laughed along to her disgusting, yet strangely hilarious story of how they managed to rob a cute guy of his wallet and car keys on a Sunday night.

Gee, perhaps last night? Maybe she wasn't the only one hiding things...

She felt the bench jolt of yet another body taking its seat down, only this time, when she turned towards a random person, it had seemed that the past bore its jaws. It was... Soul that was right there in the flesh. No doubt, for the white hair and seemingly ruby red eyes was already convincing enough and scornful enough. He lay back, arms folded behind his head as he closed his eyes, not one of them uttering a sound. After enough eyeing, she brought out her novel, reading under the shade of the frolicking greenery above.

It seemed perfect.

"Hey, I know you from somewhere..." The guy eyed her, opening an eye. "Maka, right?" Her eyes never left the page as her head bobbed slowly. He grinned, running a hand through his white locks. "Why, I'd never thought I'd be seeing you again, pig tails." With a light chuckle, he stretched himself out, only to inch a bit closer to him. She flinched as she backed away, only to have the thought strike her. Hastily, she whipped out her bag, only to open the smallest pocket and grab the forgotten pamphlet. Hands out with the brochure in hand, she let him act upon it, yet he declined, shaking his head. "You'll need it more than I'll ever use it during this year." She felt insulted.

"No," She said as she pressed it to him. "Just in case, and I already have one, thank you." He only took it the second time, nodding. The minute it came into his hands, Liz and Patty entered the scene, Liz painted with the face she rued, and Patty with blue popsicle juices painted across her mouth, her tongue stained with blue raspberry. They both giggled as they caught Maka red-handed with a guy.

"_Nothing_ happened, huh?" Liz chuckled as she eyed Soul with hawk eyes, flipping her blonde locks back. "He's not bad..." Patty giggled. Maka's face flushed. And out of all expressions, Soul, rather collected his things.

As if on cue, the man got up, fixing the collar of his jacket, waving to the girls. He walked off as if nothing happened, only to have Liz and Patty flooding the poor girl with an interrogation.

"You slept with him, didn't you!?"

"How was the sex girl? Man, how the hell did you manage to land such a man in one night? Or was it a _secret_ relationship...?"

"You _did_ do _it_?"

"I'm surprised, especially since you beat me. What's his name?"

"Maka has a secret boyfriend!"

And just like that, the time came for them to gather in the auditorium for the opening ceremony, a rush of students entering the glass doors. Tugged in as she had been, she caught the albino's hair color still flying through her head. Only when she was thrown into a velvet chair was that her mind came straight, eyes focused on the black curtains and the dimmed arena.

"Is everybody all settled?" A teacher lurked from the curtains, walking towards the podium. Fixing his glasses, he positioned the microphone, clearing his throat with a hearty cough.

Grabbing the script off the stand, he began greeting the students, the atmosphere a tad too serious for a first day. Some, more jittery than others, began fidgeting in their seats, their fingers in a expert level of Chinese finger trap full suit. Others just sat there, cool as a cucumber.

"So, with all your teachers introduced, I recognize myself, Franken Stein, one of the head lectors that you'll be working with. I _never_ fail with any of my students, and will not now my head against any challenge that he/she throws before me." He explained, out of pure luck, and a modest style. And with that, he walked off the stage. "Best two hours of their lives, wasted," as his chuckle could be heard, his whisper being a tad too loud for their ears.

And with that, bright stage lights dimmed, and the main lights shone on to the denizens, groaning from the sudden exposure to light after being in the eerie and black room. It was only after half the flood of pupils that Maka was able to head to the exit. She had been able to meet up with Liz and Patty at the entrance, who where checking out their dorm assignments. Curious, she found Liz and Patty's room, only to see the sisters in the same room, yet not with her. She searched diligently for her name, only to see her name at the bottom of the list under room number 113. Weird, considering that she expected to be the first for assignments, last name wise. Checking for other names, she only found hers, the only girl on the list without any other roommates. Great, after sly innuendos about that albino being her boyfriend, courtesy of the Thompson girls, and heck, seeing the patch of white hair, rooming alone just had to top the sundae.

"Hey, Maka, who are you rooming with?" Liz asked nonchalantly, stretching her arms as she whacked a guy with glasses, receiving a harsh remark. Maka only pointed at her name at the bottom of the list, Patty laughing out, Liz trying to hold in her desire to chuckle at the humiliation. Yet she remained as cool as a cucumber, leaving Maka there as she towed Patty out, who held her sides tight. "Don't forget to grab your keys from the security guy by the stairs to the dorms, okay?" She chimed as she covered Patty's mouth, only to let out her bottled up emotion.

Damn, as if this day could become _worst_?

The dorms were a short walk from the auditorium, down a path lined with trees blossoming with those pink and yellow petals without the housing of a flower. Soft trade winds blew by, the warmth of the sun encompassed with each gust. Of course, walking down the soothing path would have done her better if Maka had been in a better mood, thank you fate with the biggest dose of sarcasm.

She quickly entered the glass doors of the building, gratefully taking her room key as she walked up the stairs, and down the hall. It didn't seem too superfluous or too shabby; a vending machine was oblivious at the end of the hall, a few pay phones lined at the beginning of the long stretch. The walls needed to be fixed though. Threatening cracks stood out, as well as some very disturbing smells and stains. But that bad feeling was building up. Finding the room. Twisting the key. Opening the door. Taking in the blue couture of the room. The same albino from earlier lounging on of the bunks.

_Albino?_

"What are you doing here?" She asked as she saw him laying back on the pale blue wall. "I thought I was rooming alone."

"Hm? Oh," He looked up from his position on the bed. "It's pig tails."

"Maka," She corrected him. "

"Can't be," She shook her head. "They strictly state that you're suppose to room with the same gender type." And with that being said, two other guys entered the room, hair colored blue and sculpted, where as the other one was pretty tall, his black hair accompanying his honeycomb eyes.

"Soul!" The seemingly rambunctious one jumped on to the albino. "Who's the chick at the door?" The other one turned from setting his bag down on his bed, eyes widening. Soul only cocked an eye. "She's rooming with us."

Oh, joy.


	4. Fair, Besides The Fact That I'm Cursed

Summary: AU! Maybe enrolling here was some big coincidence. She definitely never understood the arts, especially since she lacked in that stray. She never got the warning. But when she felt his hand in hers, his warm lips melting into her skin, it was then that he pulled her trigger.

Personally, I really don't know what to write in this section. So I'll write what's on my mind.

I'm terrible at updating, and I apologize. I'm trying to keep up with work, as well as maintaining... "Balance." I've also been cursed with a slight writer's block, so that's partially why I've been having trouble updating. Er, I may write a one-shot around the end of November to settle my Eden of the East addiction, so... I finally have the direction of the story, thank goodness, so maybe, just maybe, my updates will be better, and longer. Until I update this again, I wish all my readers well, and a Happy Belated Thanksgiving.

Rated M for language and citrusy themes. Lemons to be indicated in later chapters. I do not own Soul Eater.

* * *

**IV. Fair, Besides The Fact That I'm Cursed**

* * *

Her day could only be sporadic.

"Yo, Kid, I'm officially calling the top bunk as of now. You can sleep underneath your master!" The light blue chimed out as he flung his small yet sculpted body on to the top bunk, the metal beds making a threatening creak. The response of the man beneath was just a scoff, only to be followed by a shuffling of blankets.

"Please, Black Star," Soul groaned from his top bunk, turning to his side, earphones eluding his ears. "The only people that call you master are the shit loads of the weak you pick up like stray cats."

"Excuses," He kicked a leg up to the ceiling, a colorful comeback from the neighbor above, shaking up Maka, shaken up. Death the Kid, who had only shot a glare at the Mr. Rambunctious, as his lovely present for when the guy runs down here, and usually, starts raging. Soul seemed very nonchalant, only to have his cell phone nearby just in case the guy above decided to get smart with Black Star.

"Seriously," Kid groaned as he opened the night side drawer and emptied his bag filled with night clothes and a light novel. Maka's attention quickly diverted to the book laying there in the pile of black sweats and cotton t-shirts, forgetting her worry about whoever was to come down and knock at their door. Leaving her spot on the wooden floor, she crawled over to the drawer with the interesting book, her skirt lifting enough to entertain the albino, who had seemed to coincidentally take his eyes off the wall. "Nice ass, pig tails."

Noticing that her skirt had hitched to a mode that she never knew till his sexual comment, she immediately stood up, glaring at him. "I thought your headphones were the biggest distraction of history, yet here you are, actually recognizing something like this."

"Pfh, genius," Black Star chuckled as he dusted off the dust that had piled on to him after releasing his strength to the ceiling. Agitated, she grabbed the first thing she saw and flung it, colliding with his head, the spine of the hardcover diving into him. With a loud cry, he tumbled on to the floor, landing on top of Kid who had pinned his finger in the wooden desk, Black Star's body only adding to his woe. Maka could only giggle at how they were posed; the dirty thoughts flowing like adrenaline as Kid flushed at Black Star's infiltration of his crotch.

"What... Is... _This_...?" Black Star immediately pulled away, spitting away, wiping his mouth against Kid's sheets. "Why would you wipe—"

"I'm not gay, okay!?" Black Star coughed as he spat into the black satin sheets.

"Who was it that fell right on my-"

"We get it," Soul muttered as he jumped into the conversation. "Unfortunately, they don't allow same sex marriage here yet."

"Soul!?"

And with that he collected himself and faced the wall, smirking heavy as another round of rock echoed into his ears. Death the Kid, cheeks heavily dusted with red, immediately got up, grabbing only a five dollar bill and a tablet of aspirin. The door slammed so hard, the dust from ceiling dusting like powdered sugar.

Maka just sat there, having witnessed an argument that flew by so quickly. Getting up, she walked over to Black Star, concern on her face. "You..."

"What?" He growled. "You want to be fucked around? I'd love to break your limbs." And with that, she backed away, only to grab her hoodie and walk out. A migraine caught on, _great_. She needed aspirin.

Definitely. She had to see someone about this, arrangement.

...

"Maka!" Liz chimed as she held her energy drink, Patty behind with an iced mocha. Looking up, she smiled lightly, only to wave. Throwing an ice cold soda at the blonde, Liz smirked, watching as Maka caught it with a small slip. "Come join us at the pathway, okay?"

"Nah, I'm good." She commented. "Thanks for the drink though." And with that, she walked off, heading to the stairs and to the library. At least these stairs, didn't reek of putrid, foreign scents, and of the memories of last night.

Yet it still felt scarring. She slept in the same bed with a stranger, adding on the fact that it was another guy besides her dad.

_Dad_...

...

The bell rang, the patter of feet against the marble prominent. It was only the first few minutes, and yet the anticipation cracked like a whip. The whole classroom was like a melting pot, a totally indiscreet form of earlier; thank god for the seating arrangement.

"So the solution to this is definitely x cubed?"

"You'll never believe it, but that monotonous guy from earlier just asked to go on a small, calorie-free rendezvous at the café. Who asks that kind of question?"

"Well," Liz muttered, lucky enough to be seated next to Maka. "Lively, isn't it?"

She could only nod. What's worst, albino choose the right time to make eye contact as he entered the room, hands sleeping in his pockets. With a double take, she looked back at the novel she was reading, mentally slapping herself. God, goggly eyes were really a communication killer...

"Alright,"A clap ended their conversing, deafening silence fell, the only noise that intruded was of the clack of her heels against the marble. A mug of coffee in hand, she stood by chalkboard, murmurs erupting from the wry crowd of students.

"A blonde teacher, huh?"

"She's not young... I bet she's around... Forty-two."

She turned as she placed the piece of chalk down, only to begin talking immensely among the crowd. "Please call me Ms. Marie, and as you all know, in fact, you have seen it on the course description before even agreeing to take this class, I am the dance instructor. From ballroom dancing, freestyle, and line dances, we'll get to them all, and expect great things from you all." The class groaned, Maka nearly dying in her seat. She was supposed to have... Mainly literary courses and nothing compared or near the confines of music.

"So, our expectations of this class are simple. You will be graded on performance, clarity, etiquette, and none other than your dancing itself." Marie explained as she pivoted around to face the pupils. "As of today, we leave the haven of our desks and express our emotions through," She cupped her hand in the air, delicately bringing it to her chest. "What your body language has to offer."

Groaning. The flight of crumpled paper. And with that, Ms. Marie sharply turned at them, glaring coldly at the whom looked suspicious. Smirks plastered on their faces, she only walked over to the front, dangerously close. Instead of a scolding, she only randomly called out a few names.

"Kim Diehl, Maka Albarn, Soul Evans, Ox Ford, and Black Star, please come forward..." She called out, startling the pig tailed girl. Was she already in trouble for a random, insufficient reason? Standing from her seat, she made her way to the front, along with the familiar albino, the pink haired chic, the nearly bald, and her blue haired roommate, eyes sharp as daggers making their way into her very soul. It was only then that Ms. Marie shot a glitzy grin at them, only to pair them up, Maka with Soul, Kim with Ox, and Black Star in the middle. "I like you now, Miss." Black Star commented, shooting a thumbs up. Marie only looked at him like she saw something discrete, placing the CD into the player. "And why may that be?"

"Why," Black Star's grin only grew bigger, hands on his hips. "I'm actually a solo dancer... Or whatever class this is!" Marie placed her hands on her hips, hastily pressing the play button, a recent release playing through the room. "Really, then? Show them how you dance then. The reason why you're up here is because I saw on your application that you're good with crowds, and have some experience." And with that, she moved aside. Black Star, staring up at the pairs of eager eyes, started to point around, running all over as if a rapper to his crowd.

Maka could nearly faint. It was only the first day, and yet here she was, having to do something she didn't learn, never dreamed of doing, and all with this guy. He felt her grow limp, only to start spinning her, whispering to just follow his lead. And with that, she spun and dipped, her eyes meeting his countlessly.

Kim and Ox, however, seemed to have practiced for years; even if they only met that first glance, they already knew what to do. Starting up in a basic step, they began dancing an international cha-cha, her hands swaying intimately around her body, her body melting into the music. He lead her around like a tease, eyes all on the pair whom was stealing the spotlight. Twirling, rioting, mesmerizing...

And the music stopped.

"Well," Marie pursed her lips as she walked over to those whom danced. "I'm thoroughly impressed with your skills, Kim and Ox. I looked forward to what you have in store. They bowed gratefully, Marie walking over to Black Star with stiff steps. He remained clueless, a large smirk plastered on his face.

"So," He chimed. "How'd I do?"

"Well," Marie muttered, rubbing her temples. "I need an aspirin." With a slight scoff, she walked over to Soul and Maka, hands glued to her hips. She waited in fear and excitement, only to collapse. Mentally, that was.

"I leave no comments. You may all leave at the bell." With that, the bell rang loud and proud, making her leave in mockery.

...

**Lunch Period**

The next few classes seemed fair, each teacher greeting everyone with a hello, a plastic smile, or a package and threat if anyone dared to procrastinate. Before she knew it, lunch had sprung, the crowds flooding the line and the lonely, gum-decorated tables. Yes, it was just her, and a sandwich, along with whatever mysterious lunches Patty and Liz had in store. Only when she sat down at a table, was when the two blondes approached her, smiling with their trays. The cherry jubilee looked absolutely delicious. Now to get Liz to crack...

"My milkshake!" Patty screamed out, pairs of eyes turning to the source. "Brings all the boys to the yard!" And with that, everyone screamed back gleefully, lots of laughs erupting from the nerds.

As for Maka, these types of things weren't as amusing. For one thing, this was way too rambunctious to be belting out in a society that tends to be mature, and ironically, the closest thing to a milkshake on her was just the tapioca pudding, a failure as a dessert. (Kudos to Liz)

Biting in to her apple, Maka only wondered what else was in store from the one who seemingly was on crack.

Maybe she should hang out with the albino guy. Better to whack the sense out of him from staying in the same bed as her rather than listening at Patty's horrible airplane food jokes.

...

The rest of her day seemed monotone, only after grabbing a can of soda and strolling by the music rooms on the first floor. Something pulled her in somehow, her mind and body somehow consciously wandering to the music room, the sound of the piano drowning her senses. Opening the door, she gasped in surprise at this sort of incognito. It was... _him_.

She fidgeted as she moved towards the sleek grand piano, eyes following each execution of each key, the sound being stretched, then sped into a tempo that accelerated the soul. Her heart was somehow falling victim into the trance, the melody coaxing her whole body with a feeling of sensual electricity, a crackling feeling that enhanced the anticipation. He showed no emotion as he played, his eyes remaining as monotone orbs, rubies with no superfluous impression, body showing an unknown language. Everything was so taunting, tantalizing perhaps.

She wondered how such a soul could play such deep and fruitful music. This was true talent, his playing having a feeling that struck in her chest. And yet, he had such a bittersweet attitude; what else was in store? Consumed in her thoughts, she didn't notice that he paused, looking up at her in curiosity. "You're here because of...?"

"Well," She placed her hands behind her back. "I like your playing." He only chuckled.

"It's nothing. Has no character or feeling. It's barely even music." She glared at him contently, as if he lost his mind.

"I didn't think of it like that. It was... mysterious. I really liked it."

His eyes widened.

"Well," She muttered. "I shouldn't be talking now, should I?" Instead of returning the comment, he walked out, waving nonchalantly at her. "Whatever, pig tails. I'll be back late tonight." And with that, he went away with the wisps of the wind, behind the mahogany door. Baffled by his attitude, she only gathered herself, making a mental note that she can just slap his name under "Secretly Pretentious." He's interesting though.

_Very_ interesting.


End file.
